


Giving Comfort

by I_Write_Midnight_Snacks



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Claudia Stilinski Feels, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hale-McCall Pack, I will add tags and characters as I write, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Stiles Has Nightmares, Unresolved feelings regarding Stiles' mom, since I'm not sure who's gonna show up yet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-15 18:20:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14795565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Write_Midnight_Snacks/pseuds/I_Write_Midnight_Snacks
Summary: It wasn’t even that he was ashamed of his panic attacks. The pack, and him, they’d shared too much of themselves with each other over the years for that to matter, seen each other at their best and their worst, and everything in-between. That wasn’t his problem.In which Derek comforts Stiles after a nightmare, and some feelings get resolved.





	Giving Comfort

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MusicPrincess655](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MusicPrincess655/gifts).



> Happy birthday, Grace!
> 
> You asked for Sterek hurt/comfort and I... Well, I tried. I feel like my brand of hurt/comfort is becoming kind of too repetitive, but hopefully this'll tide you over for now. One or two more chapters left, though, and we'll get to see a bit more of that hurt and even more of the comfort so maybe that'll turn out better.
> 
> I'm gonna throw this at you and just go for now.
> 
> Enjoy!

When Derek had nightmares, the entire pack shared in his pain. They would wake up to his howling, holding back their own tears at the sound so filled with sorrow and fear, and they would wait, patient, for as long as it took until Stiles managed to wake him up and comfort him. He never shared their contents, and they never pried, but every time it happened, the pack would offer just that much more in terms of casual touches, come morning.

When Scott had nightmares, there was no huge outburst, no waking up screaming. Just a silent suffering as he moved around his bed, but somehow, the entire pack felt it when it happened. They’d wake up the next morning feeling uneasy, and they’d all get up and silently go into the den for breakfast and cuddles, sharing in the scents of pack and the reassurance of physical contact.

Issac’s nightmares meant screaming. They meant thrashing, and falling off the bed, and noise. They meant someone from the pack showing up and silently soothing him, falling asleep again in a comfortable cuddle. And they meant that the next day, everyone would act normal, bringing no attention to him. If the act was a little forced, Isaac didn’t hold it against them.

The things that burdened each member of the pack showed themselves in many different ways, some big and some small, and with time they got to learn all the ways in which the others experienced those pains.

For Stiles, his nightmares were always explosive.

 

***

 

It was a type of pain that bordered on physical.

“You don’t see the way he looks at me!”

Words spoken hysterically and eyes that burned,

“He wants to kill me!”

sharp and painful like a knife that stabbed exactly where it hurt the most.

“He wants to _kill me_!”

Eyes moist with tears that wouldn’t fall.

“Get him away! Go away!”

Hatred lashing out like tendrils of fire before _she_ was lashing out and numb limbs that wouldn’t move. Stuck in place to watch it unfold, a tragedy taking place, and nothing he could do. Then- pain, sharp and burning in his cheek.

Lashing out. She screamed.

“Go away! _Go away!_ ”, hysterical.

A slap to the face. More screaming.

Incoherent.

_”When you’re drowning, your body struggles not to breathe. Afraid of the pain.”_

He ran, and he felt like drowning. Muffled sounds and breaths that wouldn’t come. He ran.

She gave chase, and he cried.

“No! No, I don’t, _I don’t_! Mom, no! No! Please, I don’t!”

Scared. Scared, and young, and lost. And she still chased, so he ran, until he made it in the school, and he climbed, just like tha, upwards, just to get farther, get _away_.

And just like that, he grabbed hold of something, and he struggled, and he pulled.

_“But when you finally give in and breathe,”_

_”You killed her!” “He’ll kill me!” “We protect-” “I still remember everything I did!” “She’s dead-” “I hurt them!” “Son-” “And I enjoyed it!” “I can’t tell what’s real” “It’s going to leave a darkness” “You killed her…”_

_”- It finally stops hurting_

Everything crashed.

The noise was unbearable, but after a second it was done. And when he looked back, there she was. Her eyes wide open, fixed on him with fear and horror, and all he did was stare as she took another breath, barely breathing himself.

_She was gonna kill him._

He’d killed her.

“You killed her!”

I-

“You killed your mother, Stiles!”

I didn’t-

“You killed your mother, and now you’re killing me!”

And Stiles couldn’t reply.

He was crying, his throat raw, his limbs felt numb, and the room was dark and cold. 

The dream wouldn’t let him out if its grasp, holding him tight so he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t _think_ past the voices so fresh in his mind, whispering again and again, in different voices from different times, over each other and reminding him -

_‘You killed her’ ‘we don’t kill’ ‘You hurt them’ ‘we protect’ ‘And you enjoyed it’ ‘admit it’ ‘admit it’ ‘He wants to kill me!’ ‘look at him’ ‘look at him’ ‘his eyes’ ‘get him away’ ‘You killed her’_

The room swam around him and he knew that he needed to wake up, now, wake up, _wake up, Stiles_ but when he tried to move, his leg was stuck and he fell onto a carpet, and it looked familiar.

Something hit him over the head, painfully, but in his nightmares, that was normal, phantom pain in dreams that reminded of nightmarish events, and this was more dream than real.

He knew was having a panic attack. All around him, bumps and crashes, things being broken. This was his room, but it didn’t look quite right and he couldn’t see right-

“Ow- Stiles!” Footsteps, heavy and familiar, and a voice that wasn’t in his head. “Stiles, please, you need to - calm down, please.” Derek’s voice, and then his face, right in front of him, looking frantic and worried. Stiles didn’t want him looking like that. “Stiles, it’s ok. You’re awake now. This is your room- ow-” something hit him, and then something broke, somewhere in the room. In his room. Stiles couldn’t see what.

“I don’t - Derek, I can’t tell, I can’t-” he gasped, lungs screaming for air.

“It’s ok! I’m here, Stiles. You’re awake. You’re fine now. Look.”

A warm hand on his, holding it and bringing it up, where he could see. “Look. Let’s count your fingers together, ok? Is that going to help?” His voice refused to work. His head nodded instead. “Good. Ok, I need you to count with me, Stiles. Ok? Can you do that? Come on. Look. One,” he pointed to his first finger, then to each one in sequence. “Two. Three. There you go. Count with me. Four. Five.”

His voice didn’t quite work, but his lips moved and he could see, and slowly he was able to draw breath again.

“Next hand, ok? You nearly got it, Stiles. See? Six, seven, eight, nine. And ten. You see? Ten fingers. You’re ok. You’re awake now, Stiles. This is real.”

Derek’s voice was familiar, safe, and patient. It felt like a lifeline, and Stiles latched onto it until it managed to drown out all the other sounds. The room slowly came into focus around him, and with it the feeling of his magic lashing out in every direction.

All around the room there were books, pens and empty mugs, flying around and crashing into the walls and each other, and he was at the center. It took focus, and a lot of it, to will his magic into stillness and to let everything fall gently onto the carpet.

And finally, there was silence.

“I’m sorry.”

Derek’s hand moved to the back of his neck, comforting and familiar, bringing Stiles’ head to the crook of his neck. “You don’t need to apologise for anything, Stiles.”

He sighed. “I know,” he said after a few seconds, gritting his teeth. “It’s just… I thought I finally had control. It wasn’t supposed to lash out like this. I’ve been practicing so much!”

Derek’s voice was soft. “Nobody’s expecting you to be perfect. You were distressed, and your magic reacted. That’s natural. It’s how magic functions. Nobody’s going to hold that against you.” One of his hands was still holding Stiles’, rubbing soft circles with his thumb against his skin, and the warmth was slowly seeping into Stiles, bringing him back from the edge.

“I know that,” he said. Hies legs were still caught in the blankets. Somehow, in his panic, though, he’d managed to crawl his way halfway across the room. “I know that,” he repeated after a few seconds, taking a deep breath of Derek’s scent and trying to center himself. “But this, it’s… it’s dangerous. I still have panic attacks. Sometimes I can’t tell what’s real, even now, you know? What if I lash out again? Next time, I might hurt someone.”

It wasn’t even that he was ashamed of his panic attacks. The pack, and him, they’d shared too much of themselves with each other over the years for that to matter, seen each other at their best and their worst, and everything in-between. That wasn’t his problem.

He felt tears building up again. His throat clenched. He wasn’t going to cry again. He wasn’t.

“Stiles, you’re not going to hurt us. You’re going to be able to control it eventually. Until then, trust us to be able to protect ourselves. Ok? Promise me.”

He stayed silent.

“You can’t beat yourself up over something you can’t help. Control comes with time, and practice.”

“I know. I know, Derek. I’ll…. I’ll try.”

Derek let out a breath. This was as much as he would get from Stiles. It was something.

He pulled Stiles closer to himself, as much as he could in their awkward positions on the floor, letting their bodies touch and their scents mingle, and Stiles relaxed just a bit more against him. “Was it… Was it your mom?”

It took a few seconds longer for the reply to come. He would have suggested they go back to bed, but Stiles wouldn’t be getting any sleep in his state. The others were probably just returning to their slumbers now that things were silent again, so he could afford the few more minutes to reassure Stiles.

“It was that time just before she died, again. She kept screaming about how I was going to kill her, and she was so afraid. She was hysterical, Derek, and I- I wonder if I did, you know? I didn’t do anything, but maybe the stress of having me around, being so afraid of me… nobody said it, but that might be what did it, you know?” Silence, again. He took a breath, long and shaking, and Derek’s shirt started feeling wet around the cuff. “My dad was there, too.” he sniffed, and Derek held him tighter. “He kept saying ‘You killed your mother’. I know there’s nothing I could have done, but I caused so much trouble, even after she died, and I have no idea where I’m even going with this, I just keep seeing these things, again and again, bits and pieces that happened and I’m… I’m rambling again. Sorry.”

Derek shook his head, hand moving from his neck to rub his back in slow circles. “Nnnh, ramble all you want. It’s important to get this stuff off your chest.” he nosed gently at his temple, finally making Stiles raise his eyes just enough to meet his. “Besides. I like your rambling.”

Stiles snorted. “Yes, I’m sure there’s nothing more appealing than me giving you my fifty-eth account of everything that went wrong in my life.”

“Hmm,” Derek considered, bringing their foreheads together. “I might prefer it to the constant sarcasm. It’s a good change of pace.”

“Oh, shut up. Just because you can’t appreciate my sharp wit and amazing sense of humor, I don’t have to sit here and take this. I could leave right now!” He made as if to leave, only for a moment, but all the response he got was an eye roll.

“You aren’t going anywhere other than back to bed, you dumbass. Now come on. My legs are falling asleep.”

Stiles laughed. “The big, bad werewolf, bested by such a mundane thing as a numb leg. And here I was actually thinking I might need some big, elaborate scheme if I wanted to be able to get the best of you.”

Derek rolled his eyes again and slapped him over the head. “Go to sleep, Stiles.”

And he did, laying back in the middle of the bed while Derek shuffled behind him, holding him against his chest. The silence dragged on, charged yet comfortable.

“Thank you. For helping me back from the edge.” Derek nuzzled his neck, taking in his scent, anxious and worried but still entirely Stiles. Surrounded by the scent of Them, Derek slowly fell into a light slumber as he felt Stiles do the same, and he knew that there was no need for a reply.


End file.
